Who Can Save Me From Myself?
by The CheezHead
Summary: Sometimes she wishes for a superhero to come and save her. Someone like Ultra Lord . . . or Jimmy. But that’s stupid because Ultra Lord’s not real, and Jimmy probably doesn’t care. Besides how can anyone save you when you need to be saved from yours


**WHO CAN SAVE ME FROM MYSELF?**

She sits on a bench in the park, watching the stars twinkle and wink above her. She's completely alone with her thoughts and the sound of them reverberates in her mind.

She wonders when her life was reduced to this. Sitting on a park bench, all alone, in the darkness of the night with street lamps casting an artificial glow around her. The moon is absent tonight and she senselessly wishes it would magically appear and tell her that everything's alright.

But everything's not alright. If everything was alright she would be doing something normal like all the other kids. Most of them are probably at home watching T.V. or out having fun with their friends. Not her though; she's sitting here on this stupid bench in the chilly autumn night.

Bitterly she laughs, the noise of it sounding strangely harsh and empty in the silent night.

Empty. That's how she feels most of the time. Empty. When the screaming started, so did the emptiness. That numbing feeling of emptiness. She closes her eyes, and begs it to go away and let her feel some sort of . . . anything.

It does go away sometimes, but the emotions that come with it's passing are not that much better. Because when she's empty she doesn't think as much. But when the emptiness goes away she does think.

Sometimes she wishes she let her parents be eaten by that giant chicken. That way her dad couldn't hit her mom. That way her mom couldn't curse at her dad. That way she wouldn't spend every night with her head buried under the pillow, or sitting on a park bench. That way she wouldn't be hit by another flying object that they chuck at one another in fury.

She fingers her cut cheek. She got it when she tried to stop their yelling earlier. Her mom had called her a little bitch and her dad had thrown a vase at her. Then they started screaming and she ran off to hide in the park. Again.

Sometimes she hates them. Sometimes she hates her friends. She knows she shouldn't hate her friends, but she can't help it. Why should they have parents who love them and don't fight when she doesn't? Why should she practically live in fear of leaving her room in case she finds herself in the middle of one of their fights again? Why should they be happy when she isn't? But she doesn't hate them a lot. Because most of the time she's hating herself.

Tears of hate pool in her eyes. She hates herself for not telling anyone about her parents. She hates herself for being a coward and putting up with them. She hates herself for letting her parents smack each other around.

Sometimes she wishes she could just die. Then she wouldn't have to put up with any of it. But she won't kill herself. Because suicide would be like giving up, and she will never give up.

Sometimes she wishes for a superhero to come and save her. Someone like Ultra Lord . . . or Jimmy. But that's stupid because Ultra Lord's not real, and Jimmy probably doesn't care. Besides how can anyone save you when you need to be saved from yourself? And she is her worst enemy.

Sometimes she wonders if anyone really and truly cares about her. If anyone can see the lie in her eyes when she smiles. Or that hint of falseness whenever she laughs. She bets that no one does. Because she's worthless, even her parents tell her so.

Sometimes she remembers when she was younger and the world was full of sunshine and daisies. Her parents loved her and they loved each other. She remembers going out of her way to save them from becoming chicken feed. But they probably don't care (or remember) about that. If only she could get back their love.

Sometimes she thinks that maybe they love her. Because sometimes her mom will come and kiss her goodnight. And sometimes her dad will call her his little angel, just like he used to. But then they'll go back to yelling and screaming and she'll realize they really don't love her.

She wishes fervently that someone would care about her. To hold her in strong arms and comfort her. But that will never happen, because she's worthless.

Pulling her knees up to her chest, she finally lets the tears fall.

She cries for her parents and their lost love. Maybe if they still loved each other (and her) she wouldn't be sitting on this bench, freezing her butt off.

She cries for her friends having to put up with her. She wishes that they'd go away since they really don't care. Because no one cares.

Mostly she cries for herself. And she hates herself for it, because crying for yourself is so selfish. That's what she is. Selfish. Selfish for not appreciating all the good years she had with her parents.

But she does appreciate the good times, but she hates them more. Because she'll never be that happy again. And she'll be reduced to spending her nights in this park. On this very bench.

She shivers. It's not supposed to be this cold in Retroville. She wishes for a coat, because all she's wearing is shorts and a tank top.

Vehemently she wonders whether or not her parents have discovered her disappearance yet. Probably not. In fact they probably wouldn't even notice if she stayed out all night. At least they wouldn't notice she was gone until they had to get her up for school.

Her tears come faster, while she shivers and hugs her knees tighter. She'd stay here all night if she weren't so cold. Or if she had been smart enough to dress warmer.

But she wasn't smart enough. She hasn't been smart enough since Jimmy Neutron moved to Retroville. She used to be smart, but how could she even hope to compete with a _genius_. She knew she couldn't and her parents knew she couldn't.

She sees a bright light glowing in the distance. Inexplicably, she wonders if she's dead. Coming closer the one light breaks into two, and she realizes it must be the headlights of a car. But cars can't drive in the park, and she's too far from Main Street for it to be from that.

She finds she doesn't care, and buries her head in her knees and continues to hate herself.

"Cindy!"

Hearing the sound of her name she jerks her head up. Standing about ten feet in front of her are Jimmy and Goddard. Goddard's eyes are lit up and she realizes that they must have been the lights she saw earlier.

"Cindy, thank God we found you!" He runs up to her, and by the light of Goddard's eyes he sees her tear-stained face, and cut cheek. "Are you alright?"

She wills herself to speak, but finds she can't. Instead she just nods her head 'yes'.

He looks dubious, but doesn't press the matter, "Well anyways I'm really glad I found you. Wait, hold on a sec." He pulls out his cell phone and quickly dials a number, "Hey, it's Jimmy . . . Yeah I found her . . . She says she's fine . . . You call the others . . . Uh huh . . . Yeah . . . 'K . . . See you in a few . . . Bye." He hangs up and puts away his cell phone.

She finally finds her voice, "Who'd you just call?"

"Libby. She called your house, and when your parents said they didn't know where you were, she kind of freaked. She called me, Carl and Sheen, and we've been looking for you since."

She can't believe her ears, "You came looking for me? Why?"

"Because you're our friend and friends don't give up on each other. You had us really scared Cindy."

"I'm sorry, Jimmy."

"It's okay. Now come on, let's get you home." He held out his hand towards her.

She doesn't want to go home, but she doesn't want to tell him that either. Deciding that going home is better than people knowing about her . . . situation she takes his hand.

He notices her cheeks are tear-stained, so he reaches up and brushes them away.

As soon as his warm hand touches her cheek she's reminded of how cold she is, and she gives a little shiver.

Seeing her shiver, he realizes how cold she must be. Dropping her hand he takes off his baggy sweatshirt and hands it to her. "This should warm you up."

"Thanks." Gratefully she takes it and pulls it over her head. Its warm fleece encompasses her, and she feels a little better.

He holds out his hand again, and giving a little sigh she takes it.

As they walk hand-in-hand out of the park she knows she's going to wind up on the bench again. But she doesn't care so much anymore. Because now she knows her friends really do care.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

A/N- This was a kind of spur-of-the-moment fic. I never really saw Cindy as having a good home life, and I always imagined her having doubts about everything. Please review and tell me what you thought of it.


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